Impasse
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: And this? This is the second time. This time it's serious. This time, you actually think you might lose. Post 2x10. H/D H/OC D/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Impasse

Rating: K+

Pairing: Harvey/Donna

Summary: And if this is a farewell then you should make it count.

Category: Angst-ahoy, drama.

A/N: This may become a multi-parter. Right now, it's from Donna's perspective. Thanks for reading, please enjoy.

.::.::.::.

You're mulling over your prospects after a soundly disappointing morning. For the first time in several years, you'd gone to an audition for an off-Broadway play. It was neither a big part nor a small part, but a part all the same.

You failed. Spectacularly.

There had been exactly 37 other women vying for the same role. Many who had a laundry list of plays under her respective belt. The last time you'd set foot on stage was in congratulating an old friend on _her_ staring role. Your palms sweat, your heart stuttered, and your lines came out clammy and flat. Remaining pride was the only thing that led you off the darkened stage.

No matter. There are three more auditions tomorrow and another the day after. At this rate, you'll get a part sweeping up someone's ambition off a worn and weary floor.

Now you need to sit and ponder. You're at your cafe. You even have a corner. You inhabit this spot frequently on Saturdays, a newspaper and warm beverage in hand. There are five people who work here, two of whom you've known for the last six years. Just by glancing at you, they can assume - always correctly - what your order _should_ be.

Today, they've uncorked a bottle of red, placed a baguette with cheese and salami beside you. Jorge, one of _your_ waiters, smiles knowingly and turns to bus away the plates from a recently emptied table.

Unceremoniously you sip full-bodied wine and pick away at the baguette. It's food intended for whiling away an afternoon in contemplation, and it's meeting your demands perfectly. Thoughts of unspoken options flit across your mind, murmured promises of hopping on airplanes and sworn visits to sights unseen rise to the surface.

Just as you start on your second glass and you've settled on the prospect of a vacation, you feel that slight twinge between your shoulders — the one that always told you Harvey was watching from his desk. Instead of turning scornfully, you hold your breath and will away the sensation.

Unfortunately it only gets stronger, louder too, as his footsteps draw near. One glance at Jorge and Lola, the cafe's owner, tells you all you need to know. Outwardly you sigh while inwardly you fortify your resolve.

"May I join you?" He asks because it's polite, but his hand is already on the back of the chair even as your gaze fixes on his shiny black shoes. You settle back and shrug. When he sits, you observe that he's removed his coat and tie, and rolled up his sleeves. You wonder what day of the week it is, and whether an impostor has replaced him.

Your eyes travel up his forearms, his striped shirt, and to his face. He looks the same as usual, but the tightness around his eyes and mouth show exhaustion and determination — much like he did as a senior associate. He studies you much the same way, but you don't much care to know his thoughts. Not the way you used to, at least.

This time Lola comes, placing another wine glass in front of Harvey. You notice that she changed shoes, sharp-as-tack stilettos. She gives you a quick smile as she places some olives between you both, this time stepping dangerously close to Harvey's left foot. He takes the hint and sits a little taller.

Taking a formidable sip, Harvey sets down his glass and exhales slowly, twisting the stem between thumb and forefinger. You aren't quite sure what he's here for, because he's not cracking and you aren't digging.

Determined to be unbothered, you rip off another piece of bread and place the cheese and salami on top, taking a generous bite. It lodges in your throat and you chase it with the red wine. Harvey watches all in silence, but you continue to act unaffected. _This_ should have been your audition, not that sham earlier this morning.

"I'm sorry."

The words are so sudden and so quiet, that you aren't sure you heard him correctly. He catches your confusion and frowns, repeating himself once again.

"I'm sorry, Donna. I…" he pauses and looks away as though the old man next to him can provide some dialogue. "Once I got over my anger and let everything settle, I started to understand what you did and why you did it."

He glances at you, to see if anything is sinking in. It is, but you can't decide if it's too little too late or if all your other feelings are overshadowing your current gratitude.

"I am thankful and appreciative of your loyalty and your intentions behind the gesture. I still don't agree with what you did, though. That part…" his words seem to leave him and he struggles with a shake of his head

He visibly deflates and you wonder how someone like Harvey Specter can look so small. It's not a good look for him, one that you'd rather forget. So you take in his words — his apology and statement of disapproval — knowing that this will be all you'll ever get from him. Maybe for the last time.

And if this is a farewell, then you should make it count.

"At the time," your voice is a little scratchy from disuse and wine. You clear and begin again, his eyes glued to yours. "When I first found the memo… I couldn't figure out how I'd done something so stupid, so careless. But then I realized — my mistake could end your career. How could I fix it? How could I make it go away? Mike found me in the middle of that. He tried to talk me out of it. But there was this part of me that absolutely refused to be at fault for bringing down years of hard work and sacrifice."

You break eye contact and shake your head, looking away.

"So I got rid of it. I figured in the end, there was always plausible deniability. Do I regret the harm it brought you and the firm? Yes. I am…" you take a breath and say the words slowly, "I am very sorry for that."

He reads your face and sees the truth in your words. His jaw clenches as you continue on.

"But I don't apologize for my motivation behind my actions. Most everything I've done for over a decade has revolved in some way around you. Protecting you, caring for you, working for you."

He nods almost apologetically as he drains his glass. "I know that."

"Do you?" You ask this because you feel your ire building up again and whether you like it or not, this needs to end. "Because I can safely say this whole… shit storm has shown me that we have very little in common except for one thing: protecting _your ass."_

Instead of raising your voice, you lean closer and speak your words with a specific type of venom. "My fault was action, yours was inaction. Up until a couple weeks ago, I wouldn't have even spared a second if I had to name someone who'd always be in my corner, someone who'd always have my back."

You feel a certain type of begrudging victory as you watch your words hit home. His face slips into this mask of impenetrability when something is too painful. As you say your next words, you hate the tears that start to well in your eyes. Shaking your head slowly, you whisper: "You were my best friend, Harvey."

"Donna —"

"And all these years by your side led me to believe that I had earned some type of role in your life, but the past few weeks have proved what I always feared but refused to believe, and it was that you only cared about yourself."

You reach down and grab your purse; knowing that you're about to start crying and you won't give him that. He doesn't deserve your tears, your feelings, your destruction. You drop a couple twenty-dollar bills on the table and push away, standing.

He grabs your wrist as you pass, and you stop just long enough to give him a parting farewell. "I don't know why you came here or what you wanted from me, but please — please respect me enough to leave me alone. Good luck, Harvey. I hope you get what you want."

You pull away, ignoring the warmth of his grip and the stinging in your eyes. Swiping a tear away, you continue down the street, never looking back.

Such a shame, because if you had, you'd have seen Harvey turn and watch you go, whispering: "I want _you, _Donna."

When you make it to your apartment, you spend the next twenty minutes crying ugly, fat tears; broken-hearted over splitting from the one man you thought you'd never have to say goodbye to.

.::.::.::.

A/N: Obviously, if I get some solid feedback, I'll continue. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed this meager offering.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Impasse (2/2)

Pairing: Donna/Harvey

Category: Angst/Drama

Summary: "This was supposed to be hard and painful; the only things that count in life always are." Harvey pleads his case. H/D.

A/N: This fandom is much more vocal than many of the others I've enjoyed. Thank you all for the responses. To the couple of you that wished I did away with the second-person, sorry. It's a writing style that I use every so often. Other than that, this may or may not be it. I can't tell. Thanks for reading, enjoy!

.::.::.

You wait a good thirty minutes. As you do so, you finish off the bottle, an excellent red, and eat the rest of her food. You can't remember the last time you ate a full meal, and the simplicity of it all hits the spot.

You've been thinking of how to approach Donna since she left Pearson Hardman in a fireball of fury and indignation. To be honest, you had some inkling that Louis would go after her on the stand, because it's Louis, but never in your wildest imagination did you consider the degree to which he was willing to take things.

The look on her face, the utter disappointment and anger in her eyes was exactly how you'd felt for over a week. It was her actions that put you in this position to begin with. _She_ shredded the document. _She _took it upon her own volition to play the odds.. _She_ landed you in this mess.

But the night of the mock trial and the day after, you had a chance to really sit and think. Not only did you and Jessica have Hardman wanting your heads on the chopping block, but you had absolutely no one to put the whole situation into perspective. Donna was good at that.

Among other things.

Obviously, going to see your Dad was hard. More than hard, actually. It was something you always did alone, but it was something that Donna always knew about. She'd have your shot glasses sitting on your desk the night before, cleared your schedule, and provided the stonewall to the other associates and partners who blustered at your audacity to take a day off.

The trip to his grave reminded you of the day he passed away, the day you found out about Hardman, the events that led up to it, Donna's part in everything. She had such an integral role in that firm and your career… and your life. Despite your best intentions, she'd managed to wheedle her way into every dark corner and ugly shadow of your life. Not only that, but she still hung on for more.

Her old, hearing impaired neighbor lets you into her building, and you slowly climb the stairs, trying to figure out where to start. When you get on her hall, you can hear the faint sounds of music and know it's coming from her place.

As you get to her door, you know instantly that you'll have your work cut out for you. She's listening to Nina Simone - _Pirate Jenny_. Donna has an entire collection of women singer/songwriters that she calls her _Girls, _each reflects a particular mood. Pat Benatar for raging against men, Carole King for her mean reds à la Holly Go-Lightly, Janis Joplin for going out, but the worst, the absolute worst of the pack is Barbara Streisand. All bets are off when she's got Barbara going. The most recent and surprising addition is Adele. She made you listen to the vinyl in your office after work one day. _Made you_ — at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

You knock on her door once. Twice. Three times. Finally she turns down the music. She pads over to the door a slings it open.

"Damnit Harvey, just go away."

You stand opposite her and you stare at each other for a couple seconds. Her hair is swept up into a messy bun, her eyes are red rimmed and raw, and she's changed into yoga pants. _Defeated_. She looks defeated. By your posture and the look on your face, she realizes you came for a fight that you intend to win. She draws herself up to full height and squares her shoulders.

"What is the first thing you ever said to me?" You ask, matching her pose. She doesn't respond right away, just releases this tired, frustrated breath.

"Get your grubby hands off my stapler and your goddamn files off my desk, I'm not your mom, I'm not your wife, and I sure as hell am not your maid."

You smile, because the way she says it is the exact same way she said it all those years ago. You begin a rapid fire question session, to which she matches perfectly. She'd be a formidable opponent in the courtroom, no doubt.

"Did you ever cut me any slack?"

"Of course not."

"Did you ever let me take you out on that date?"

"Not then and not ever."

"Did you leave the DA's office because you were in love with me or because you thought Cameron Dennis was a corrupt man?"

"The second one."

"When you came to Pearson Hardman, did people give you a hard time for working for me?"

"Yes."

"Did it bother you what other people said about us?"

"Every once in a while."

"But you stayed with me. Why?" You've slowly edged your way forward, your pit-bull style type of questioning working much in your favor.

"I was good at my job, I liked the people, and it was steady pay."

"Was there ever a time when you thought I'd trade you for someone else?"

"No," she shoots back, anticipating your follow up. "I know too much about you. I know how you operate. I know what you want before you want it half the time. That was why we worked."

You take in her words then press on. "Do you think I'd ever destroy evidence?"

She hesitates then answers slowly. "When you were younger, no. But now? I don't know anymore."

"Is that why you did it? Not because it was expected of you, but because I'm becoming someone you don't quite recognize? Someone that — five, ten years ago, would be appalled at the thought, but now? You aren't so sure."

Donna doesn't answer and she takes a step back. She crosses her arms across her chest protectively and bites her lip.

"Harvey —" she can't answer. She can't or she won't, you don't know.

"You got rid of that document because you figured somehow I'd be okay with it, that the end would justify the means," your voice is quiet and her gaze is elsewhere. "You know how ruthless I can be. You know how driven I am. You know most every move I make. You wouldn't think destroying evidence was okay, unless I somehow conveyed that feeling, that idea to you."

You slump against her door frame, so completely in her space, and yet she won't step aside, won't let you in. Not this time. You lost that right.

"I've been thinking a lot lately, about how you, me, and Jessica managed to get rid of Hardman the first time." You pause for a moment, not for effect, but because of the difficulty in saying the words. "I also remember someone telling me that_ I'd lost my way_."

You exhale slowly and watch as her eyes work their way up the buttons of your shirt. "At the time, I disagreed wholeheartedly. I deal — dealt, with things my own way. How dare this person impress her standards upon me. But now I realize she was speaking to my overall moral fiber, my ethical conduct. She saw me going down a path, much like the one you feared when we were at the DA's Office."

She's watching you in rapt silence. Taking in your words, your greater meaning in this whole presentation of sorts. You want to stop, want to steady yourself. You want her to let you in.

"I think that maybe I've started going down a path that I don't know how to get off of," you hear your heartbeat in your ears, each pounding stroke, "and I think I took you with me this time."

You see a tear streak down her cheek, and another and another. You want to catch them all and give them away. But this was supposed to be hard and painful; the only things that count in life always are.

"And for that, Donna, I am truly sorry. Because if I'd been doing my job properly, if I was being the man and the lawyer that I've always thought I'd be, that my Dad wanted me to be, then you wouldn't have hesitated in coming to me with the truth. The thought of destroying evidence wouldn't have crossed your mind because you'd have known that I wouldn't stand for it, that I still don't stand for it."

For a moment, you can't continue. It's getting unusually hot in her hallway and you need to take a step back, look away for a second and regroup. When you turn back to her, she's got a box of tissues in her hand and is sopping up her face like a mop. You can always tell her real tears from the fake ones, because she is not a pretty crier, not in the slightest. Her face blotches up, her eyes redden, and she loses her voice.

"I'm not here to excuse what you did. I know that you're sorry. I know that you had my best intentions at heart, but I swear to God, you've got to stop mothering me. If I'm going to make a mistake, let _me_ be the one to make it. And when I inevitably do, I will always expect you to help me out. Because that's what…" you stop for a minute and wait until her eyes meet yours, "that's what best friends are for."

"Harvey," she croaks and it's horrible, "don't do that. Don't go the sentimental route. I can't take it right now."

"Then let me finish, and I'll let you switch over to Barbara and go pick up some ice cream for you."

"Damnit, I'm serious."

You smile at her her, patient and pleading. "You're right. I didn't fight for you. And to be honest, you're the one person I never thought I'd have to fight for. You've always, always had my back and the one time you needed me, I wasn't there. I don't know how to fix what happened in the past, but I can promise you that I will spend everyday trying."

"What are you saying?" she whispers, tucking stray strands behind her ear. You watch as she tosses the box on her counter and swipes the rest of the tears from her eyes. She mirrors your observation and a frown slowly crawls across her face. Her head is already shaking 'no' before the words leave her mouth.

"Are you kidding me? No. Harvey, NO." She pushes her hair out of her face, completely at a loss as to what to do with you. "You stood by as I was completely humiliated in front of all the senior partners. ALL OF THEM. I'm not coming back."

"I think they can respect that you didn't perjure yourself on the stand."

"Don't push it, buddy. I never answered Louis."

"Donna, we've worked together for over ten years. We're practically family. Of course there is going to be some attachment made. It'd be ludicrous to think otherwise."

"But it was the way Louis drove at the heart of my intentions that I don't like."

"Donna, he simply voiced what everyone has been wondering for years. Why does it bother you so much now?"

She's getting cagey again and you may have pushed too far. Time to back off. "That was crass, disregard what I said. All I'm asking, is that you give me a second chance. Give me a trial run."

Her eyes narrow at you and she gets a gleam in her eyes. "How do you know I don't already have plans? What makes you think I'm just sitting around with nothing better to do?"

"Please," you try hard not to roll your eyes. "If you were going on vacation, you'd have left the minute Norma texted you to say we settled. If you were going to work elsewhere, you'd have already let yourself get snatched up from one of the twelve law firms that have requested character references from me. And if you'd gotten a part in some shitty play, you'd have been drinking champagne earlier, not your mean red wine."

She might not think so, most won't, but you know Donna Paulsen very well. Too well, sometimes.

"God, you're impossible."

She hasn't said 'No' again which means you've almost won her over. It's this kind of strategy that makes you the best at what you do.

"I'm not God, but you'll be the first to know when I take over. Now, we have the vote tomorrow as to whether or not they want to oust Jessica as Managing Partner. If all goes as planned, I can expect you back at work the day after."

"You're assuming I'm actually going to come back."

"How about I give you the most important role of your acting career? Convince Louis that Jessica is the way to go. You do that, and not only will Jessica have to hire you back, but we'll be able to get rid of Hardman again."

"What if I fail?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" You ask her incredulously. "That phrase was foreign to your vocabulary last time I checked."

"Seriously Harvey, I can't have something this important resting on my shoulders."

"Donna, Jessica and I will get him 70% of the way there. I just need you to be my ace up my sleeve."

She arches her eyebrows at you coyly as you roll your eyes, disregarding her look. "Come on, what do you say?"

Her silence actually makes you pause because she is truly deliberating. She isn't completely sold and you need her to be all in. But then she seems to realize what the bigger picture is, and that's earning back your trust. She could just as easily throw you and Jessica under the bus tomorrow, but it's a risk you're willing to take. Donna seems to mull this over, looks you in the eyes for such a long time that you almost forget what you came for. In another life perhaps…

"Let's see how the vote goes tomorrow. Then we'll talk about the rest." _Quid pro quo._

"Thank you, Donna. Deal?" You stick your hand out to shake on it, just like you did ten years ago over a silly bet. She reaches out, her own hand warm in yours. You may have shaken, or simply stood there dumbly. It doesn't matter, because she's agreed to help you and the firm.

"Deal."

.::.

When you arrive home later that evening, you find a message on your voicemail:

"Don't forget the thumbtacks you conniving bastard. Otherwise, I'll shove the can opener where the sun don't shine." A beat. "Sweet dreams."

That night, you sleep better than you have in weeks.

.::.::.::.

_fin?_

_.::.::.::.  
_

__A/N: I do have a small follow/up in mind, but we'll see how this sucker turns out first. Let me know what you guys think. Thanks once again!


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Impasse

Rating: K+

Pairing: Harvey/Donna

Summary: And this? This is the second time. This time it's serious. This time, you actually think you might lose.

Category: Angst-ahoy, drama.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: This scenario has been creeping around in my head. I have another story I badly want to start but this needed to be unleashed first. Let me know what you think, thanks for reading! No beta.

.::.::.::.

Nothing happens for months. Absolutely nothing. Everything settles somewhat at work after several months of tumult. You continue harassing the puppy, continue bombarding both Mike and Donna with work that you can't be bothered to do, continue being _you_.

It's not until the Fall that things start to change. You meet a woman, Jill, at a private event during a Yankees game. Blonde and a total knockout, she's a sports agent and her company is hosting this event. You find this serendipitous considering you're trying to lure her company into choosing your law firm, so you keep things flirty and professional at first.

By the end of the night, the Yankees have won and so have you. Both Jill and the company are in your back pocket.

For some odd reason, you take her on a date — not just drinks and a direct ascent to your humble abode. You don't even have sex the first night, which happens occasionally, but rarely are you left _wanting_ so badly. By the time you both get around to sealing the deal, you've been dating, that's right — _dating_ for over a month.

And it's great.

She doesn't need an excess of emotion from you. She works with egotistical, self-absorbed clients for a living and she calls you her Reserve Pitcher. It would get to you if she weren't so light-hearted and smiley about it. She gets that you like to work hard and play hard, in that order. Everything is casual and there's no pressure. You start to wonder why you'd been running from relationships to begin with.

Until one day it smacks you in the face. Literally. She's met you for lunch and mentions a dinner party, giving you her beautiful pout with those magical lips and her big blue eyes. It's the first time in a long time you've been required to attend something as a couple. You scowl. She frowns.

"Please?"

"No."

"I swear I won't wear clothes the entire weekend if you come to this thing on Saturday."

"Jill, you know I hate dinner parties. It's forced intimacy without me making a profit off anything."

"It's a bunch of people from work. We talk shop. We talk baseball players and the stupid things they've done. I figured that would be something you'd enjoy."

You fight rolling your eyes. She's partially right. You've been itching to know what the deal is with the Yankees second-baseman for a good solid month.

"No clothes… all weekend?" You take a sip of coffee, pulling back when her hand taps you playfully on the cheek.

"I'll only wear clothes when we go to the party, but no underwear. These are good people. Fun people. You're going to have a great time."

.::.

You're running a little late, mainly because Jill has been naked all day and you've had to put that situation to good use. Now she's wearing a black sheath dress and her wool coat because it is still ridiculously cold for early April.

"You're wearing far too much clothing."

"And you're ridiculous," she snaps back with a smirk as the door opens to reveal a tall, well dressed man in his mid-forties.

"Jill!" he reaches out gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then shakes your hand. "Harvey, I'm Tom Benning. I've heard all about you, nice to finally meet the lawyer who swept the company off its feet."

"Tom! Seriously," says Jill as she smacks him on the arm as you pass inside, a large, well-decorated apartment welcoming you. There are easily twelve other people and you are inwardly pleased because it will decrease the possibility of having to make small talk. You let Jill lead you around the room, introducing you to so-and-so and whatshisface. You smile and shake hands and reply as necessary, but find yourself immediately distracted when you hear a very distinct laugh and see its owner exiting the kitchen with Tom's wife, Charlotte.

Donna.

Of course. Eventually, you were going to see each other out in town, it was only a matter of… 13 years. Tonight though, you're not sure you're all that prepared. Things have gotten a little weird between you both lately and you can't quite put your finger on what it is.

She doesn't know you're here yet, so you take the moment to watch her unawares. Dressed in a dark cream sweater dress, she almost glows in the apartment, the soft light setting off her hair and complexion. She easily outshines most other women in the room, but does it so effortlessly that one could hardly hold it against her.

A tall man, dark and handsome type, looking vaguely familiar, comes up behind Donna and kisses her on the neck, his hands placed comfortably on her hips like they belong there. You're taken by surprise, unaware Donna was dating anyone. Though, over the years she's gotten increasingly stealthy at shielding you from her dating life.

Jill clutches your hand, breaking your attention away from Donna.

"Where'd you go?" she whispers, kissing you quickly on the cheek.

Shaking your head, you focus your attention once again on your date and _not_ on Donna. Or at least, you try.

Inevitably you meet Dark and Handsome, and place him as an ex-baseball player that was recruited from Puerto Rico. You want to mock Donna for dating someone who played a sport she could care less about.

"How long have you two been dating?" Jill asks casually, because she's met Donna once or twice, but she's never given Donna a passing thought. For the first time, you realize how stressful it's been for Donna whenever you somehow manage to meet some guy she's dating. Because inevitably it comes out that you're more than her boss. And tonight, Jill is going to realize that Donna is more than just your secretary.

"Ten months?" Dark and Handsome says with his hand resting on the small of Donna's back. At first glance, she's all smiles and charm, but you can see by the way she holds her shoulders that she's uncomfortable with your presence.

"Really?" you respond without even thinking. By your math that's right around the time she returned to the firm. "How'd you two meet?"

Donna and Dark and Handsome look at each other, a shared secret bringing a smile to their lips. "It's a long story." They say together.

Irritation simmers because she's still looking at him like that. There's a reason why she doesn't bring her boyfriends around you. It's less jealousy and more that you just don't like to share. Instead, you grip your wine glass tighter and make a snide comment.

"Online dating site it is. Donna, I thought those were beneath you." You wish you could sew your mouth shut because this is when you say things you regret and Harvey Specter never regrets anything.

Fortunately she takes your comment in stride and shakes her head. "Nice try, Harvey. Not so easy though." She smiles at Jill then brushes her hand on that idiot's arm. "Listen I've got to help Charlotte get the rest of the food out. I'll catch up with you later."

Watching her escape you want to follow, but find yourself trapped in the third circle of hell between Jill and Dark and Handsome. They've known each other for years and are catching up on how life has been since he retired.

"What do you do now?" You ask, not because you care, but because it's polite.

"I teach Physics at NYU."

"We always used to joke that he was the only one with a brain on the team," Jill offers as she smiles at him. You think that maybe they also have a history together, but can't be bothered by thoughts of that right now.

"That must be rewarding at least, teaching," you have no idea where you're going with this, but need to find a way to get some space.

"Hardly, half of my classes are for premed students who are angry that they need to be in physics in the first place. The other half is full of kids who need it to complete some other requirement. I have about five students who actually _like_ the science."

The guy drones on with his light accent and his casual conversation with your girlfriend, but you've drained your glass and break for more. You beg your pardon and slip into the kitchen. You spot Donna at the opposite end, grinning at something Charlotte is saying, whispers of 'getaways' and 'visiting his mother' reach your ears. You make some noise so they're aware of your presence, and Charlotte smiles as she carries out what will be the first course.

"Of all the places in this city, you came to a dinner party on a Saturday night?" Donna knows how much you abhor these situations.

"I was bribed."

"Bet she said she'd wear nothing but lace all weekend."

"Naked, actually."

"You've upped your ante," Donna replies, a peculiar pinch in the corner of her mouth. She motions to the empty glass you're holding. "You here for a refill?"

"Yes. The Chianti."

"I think that weird guy with the mustache finished it. There's got to be more. " Donna dips into a room and you follow because who doesn't like to see what's in dark rooms? It's their wine closet and for the first time in many years, you're jealous.

"Damn," you whistle appreciatively. There's a large fridge for the chilled wines and floor to 12-foot ceiling custom made shelves of everything else.

"I know," Donna says knowingly. "Charlotte's family owns a vineyard in Napa Valley and another in Bordeaux."

"You're kidding." You're trying to pay attention, but the image of Donna bent slightly, perusing their section of Chianti is taking away your ability to respond smartly.

"I never kid; although I did ask them to adopt me. Tom is quite possibly one of the funniest men I've ever met," she says this offhandedly, her facing lighting up when she spots the type of Chianti you were drinking. "Voila."

You've moved closer out of sheer habit and when she turns to hand it to you, there's very little space between you both and she practically plants it in the center of your chest. For all of two seconds, two eternal seconds, you forget to breathe and she forgets to blink. This has been happening more frequently lately and this is perhaps the reason behind why things are so off between you two. Then there's a noise outside and it breaks the moment.

"Whoa there, space invader," she says as her attempt at blasé fails as she moves past you, her shoulder brushing your arm. "Come on, the sooner you eat your dinner, the sooner Jill can shed that pesky dress of hers."

When you return, there is a seat for you beside Jill at one end, while Donna takes a seat next to Dark and Handsome at the opposite end on the other side. You're glad to be spared having to watch them throughout dinner, but their end is easily the more entertaining because Donna and Tom are going back and forth like a riot and you nearly wonder if they're thinking of opening a comedy show off-Broadway.

"So Harvey," Charlotte begins, finally moving onto polite hostess duties in speaking with you. "I hear you're a lawyer? What kind?"

"I'm a defense attorney," you say because over the years most of what you say about law makes people's eyes glaze over. Being a closer means absolutely nothing to these people.

"What kind of defense?"

"Big companies mostly, white collar stuff. Our firm doesn't really handle criminal court cases."

"And that's how you met Jill, right? Your firm works for her and Tom's company?"

"Actually, Harvey lured us away from Thompson and Reiter," Jill states. "He said he was one of the best lawyers in town."

Charlotte seemed to find this humorous in the way a mother enjoys the boasting of other parents. "Is that true? Are you? One of the best lawyers in town?"

"Ask Jill." You say pointedly. You did, after all, save one of her clients from near disaster last week.

Jill has the decency to blush modestly, "I have to say, he's pulled off a miracle or two. Certainly much better than our old team of lawyers."

At this point, Tom picks up the whiff of lawyers and makes the requisite joke or two about the ruthlessness of lawyers. Everyone laughs, even you, because no matter what it's always true. Then he somehow brings up that you and Donna already know each other, which the table finds fascinating.

"How long have you two worked together?" Tom asks, taking a sip of his beer.

"Thirteen years," Donna replies casually, though you both know where this is going.

"Back when you were at the DAs office, right?" offers Dark and Handsome. Suddenly the room is shrinking a bit.

"I didn't know you worked for the DA," Jill states lightly, but her tone tells you otherwise.

"It was a long time ago, I needed to get a start somewhere." This is why you hate the parties, the stupid conversation at the dinner table. Unless you're making a deal, these people aren't worth your time.

"Too true," states the weird mustached man. Who is that guy?

"Tom, Charlotte was telling me that you started out working as a caddy for Don Mattingly," Donna deflects, successfully turning the conversation from both of you and back onto sports. Unfortunately, Jill is the person who is stuck on you and Donna.

"So let me get this straight," Jill says as you both settle into an oversized reading chair after the meal is over. "Donna left the DAs office with you or was that a coincidence?"

"No, we left the office together and started working at Pearson Hardman together."

She's quiet for a few moments, the wheels in her head visibly churning as everyone takes a seat around the room, preparing to start some obnoxious party game that you also hate. Jill is watching Donna now, seeing her in a new light.

"Have you two…? " she asks without finishing because you simply shake your head.

"Never."

"Really?" she doesn't believe you. No one ever does. You've never really cared, but this time, it matters. You turn her face to yours, so she knows you're being serious when you look her in the eyes. "No. That's why we've been able to work together this long. Because we didn't screw it up."

She nods and kisses you lightly, but you can still tell there's some reservation. It doesn't help that by the time the game is over, it's very obvious that you and Donna are experts at reading each other. You both ended up on the same team and it's a charade-like game. Donna is queen at observation and body language; the other team never stood a chance against her. You also high-five each other after utter and total annihilation, like idiots. Whatever. Jill dragged you to this outing. You can't help it if you're the best at everything.

"Harvey, it was great to finally meet you," Tom is sincere in the way agents are when they're trying to close a client. "Jill has been singing your praises for a while, but I'm glad to put a face with a name."

"Same here, Tom. Thanks for a great evening," you reply, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. You want to get in your car and drop off Jill also. Because there is going to be an argument soon and you're not really in the mood for one. You help her into her coat and grab her warm hand, then leave without looking around for Donna. That would be too much and you're already in trouble.

Unfortunately, Donna is already outside saying goodnight to Dark and Handsome. More like kissing goodnight, which seems a bit much given their location, but neither one seems to be aware of their surroundings. He sees her into a taxi, telling her to call when she gets home. You would never let her take a taxi back this late, and wouldn't have if you knew it wouldn't make a scene.

"When's your flight?" Jill asks Mr. Physics as Ray pulls up with the car. That's right, Dark and Handsome has a conference in Singapore starting in two days. Hence the reason he isn't riding home with Donna. Bummer.

"It's at five, but I leave from Newark, so it'll be an early morning. I'll be flying most the day anyway."

"Too bad Donna couldn't come with you," Jill states, but she's digging for something.

"I know," he replies, "but she has this hardass of a boss who absolutely refuses to let her off work. Next time though." Dark and handsome smirks, but the threat is there underneath the charm and swagger. You won this round in keeping her, but next time, she _will_ be coming with him. He clearly doesn't see you as much of a threat, which you find interesting and concerning at the same time.

"Have a good night," you wish him as both you and Jill climb inside the car. The silence that envelops you is somewhat chilly despite the heat pumping through the car.

"I'm going to stay at my place tonight, okay?" Jill says this in a way that makes you weary, like you somehow messed up, even though you didn't. Not really. You were you and Donna was Donna and that's how you do.

"Sure. Want to get brunch in the morning?" This is as close to a peace offering as you will get and she knows it. That's what you appreciate about Jill. She is very clever and discerning. She knows how to read between the lines. Though this ability is also why you're in the hot seat right now.

Ray is pulling up in front of her place and she turns to you, watching you closely, searching for cracks or some sign that you're going to disappoint her. Somehow, you pass.

"Definitely. I'll call you after I get out of yoga." She kisses you, but there's no heat. Her blonde hair and blue eyes suddenly seem too cold as she whispers goodnight. Suddenly you're wondering how you kept warm to begin with.

.::.

Things go back to normal between you and Jill after some genuine one-on-one time. You even take her on a weekend trip to the Hamptons in the springtime. This also affords Donna a chance to get away as well.

It's the worst idea you've ever had. You come back with a sunburn and she returns with a giant rock on her left ring finger. It's become sort of an urban myth around the firm that Donna has had over fifteen proposals. You often laughed at this because in reality, it's easily over twenty. Once, after she shrewdly broke one guy's heart, you took to calling her 'Maneater' for a whole month.

In the grand scheme of things, her getting proposed to isn't that big a deal. The problem is she's only accepted twice. The first time was a tragic confluence of events that does not get mentioned. _Ever_.

And this? This is the second time. This time it's serious. This time, you actually think you might lose.

So as she comes into your office, causal and unaffected, you watch as the ring catches the sun when she tucks her hair behind her ear. Mike signs the papers she's come in for and you're just staring her down because she doesn't announce its presence on her finger. It just _is._

_"_Holy shit, check out the size of that thing," Mike observes in the most uncouth manner imaginable. Grabbing her hand, he pulls her down on the couch to take a look at it, a blush creeping up her neck. You grip your armrest tighter because now Mike is making you acknowledge that _thing_ on her finger. "Congratulations! This is great. The baseball player, right? I'm so happy for you, Donna."

Mike gives her a hug and now you feel you ought to stand, because for some odd reason you have to congratulate her for choosing to spend her personal life with someone who really isn't all that bad.

When she rises to leave, you catch her left hand and bring it too your lips, never once breaking eye contact. "Congratulations, he's a lucky man." You murmur this and she nods, because she can tell what you're really saying: _you better be sure about this, because there's no going back._

Once you release her hand, the bubble that was the two of you disintegrates and Mike drifts back in. Donna grabs the papers and exits, carrying the documents to the file room.

That night, you make very aggressive, passionate love to Jill. When she asks what's gotten into you, you shake your head and close your eyes, continuing on. Because the woman you see with your eyes shut is most certainly not the woman beneath you and neither of them deserve that. So you kiss her gently and tell her you love her, even though you don't.

But maybe you will someday.

.::.::.::.

A/N: I could leave it here, or not. Let me know guys.


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